


An Ancestor? Part 1

by Branwen_Merla



Series: An OC In The HP World [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anger, Attraction, Beauxbatons, Blushing, Diary/Journal, Dragons, Durmstrang, F/M, Groundhog Day, Jealousy, Loneliness, Magic, Memories, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Ravens, Recovered Memories, Repressed Memories, Room of Requirement, Shapeshifting, Slytherin, Temporary Amnesia, Triwizard Tournament, Yule Ball
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-12 02:28:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10480038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Branwen_Merla/pseuds/Branwen_Merla
Summary: A mysterious character becomes the favourite of the Headmistress of Beauxbatons... but is she really just some innocent girl? Replacing Fleur in the Triwizard Tournament, all seem interested by the curious cloaked figure who seems to do nothing, yet wins the trials. Perhaps she is not just the curiously silent, black-clad, cloaked young woman that she appears to be.Feeling strangely drawn to her and her mischevious nature, one boy watches, learns, and accidentally uncovers the truth.





	1. A Questionable Character

**Author's Note:**

> Heads up, some chapters are shorter than others.  
> Also, no one has proof-read this, so please ignore the jumbling of tenses and possible grammar mistakes.
> 
> Side note: I'm not a huge fan of HP (Sorry!), but I did find it somewhat enjoyable to watch (which I only just started watching recently, after much convincing).  
> In saying that, I write fanfics because I enjoy writing my OC into practically everything xD

“Come, come, girls. We mustn’t be late. Up into the carriage, s’il vous plait.” The towering headmistress of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic ordered, whilst ushering the blue satin dressed young women. “Hogwarts School of Wizardry is holding the Triwizard Tournament this year-” her sentence is cut short as a black cloak passes by her. Extending a long and fairly bony arm, she practically clotheslines the poor figure. “Velore, you shall accompany us. We ladies must be seen at our best, and you may very well be our champion.” Her voice echoes into the eardrums of the other young women, now aboard the ornate carriage. They begin to whisper amongst themselves.

“Why her? No one has actually seen her use magic…”

“Agreed. Though, coincidences do seem to follow her…”

“Cursed…”

“She has not been here that long....”

“She has always been the favourite of the headmistress...”

“She is very odd, is she not?”

“I have only ever seen her watching us, never taking part…”

“She is rather unsettling…”

The headmistress leans down close to Velore’s ear and whispers so only she can hear, “although you are...” she pauses, trying to think of the correct words “...let us just say your unique skills can give us the advantage.”

Velore blinks slowly as she mulls over those words, remembering her time in Beauxbaton.

*

Her earliest memory was of when she first awoke in a warm fluffy bed, two women whispering a conversation nearby.

“Ses blessures ont disparu? Tous d'entre eux? [Her wounds are gone? All of them?]”

“Oui, la directrice. [Yes, Headmistress.]”

“Maintenant c'est intéressant… garder ce entre nous. Comprenez-vous? [Now that _is_ interesting… keep this between us. Do you understand?]”

“Oui, la directrice. [Yes, Headmistress.]”

“C'est quoi? [What is it?]”

“Même Tu-sais-qui ne peuvent pas guérir cette rapide… [Even You-Know-Who cannot heal this fast…]”

“Hush, elle semble se réveiller. [Hush, she seems to be waking.]”

 

Opening her eyes, she sees a rather large woman towering over her. The woman gasped a little in surprise, stepping backward in what she thought was fear. Why did this woman, obviously larger than she, retreat? She tilted her head a little, as she opened her mouth to speak.

“You are very tall.”

A wave of confusion spread across the woman’s face. Was what she said, really that odd? The woman took a hesitant step toward the bed, obviously on guard.

“Did I do something to warrant such animosity?”

The woman paused, thinking. Is it possible this girl knew not of who she was?

“…I suppose not. Do you remember anything?”

“I do not. You are a female giant, yes?”

“Oui, that is correct. I am Madame Olympe Maxime, Headmistress of Beauxbaton’s Academy of Magic – where you are currently. Do you have a name?”

“That would be the correct assumption, however I do not remember it.”

“Very well. I shall give you one to go by.” Maxime put her large, bony, red manicured hand to her chin, seemingly deep in thought. _“It is unlikely that she is whom I believe she may be, yet…”_ Maxime steals a glance at the girl lying in bed, _“…those eyes… only one person in all of history had eyes of that colour. An ancestor? Perhaps, but if not…”_ Should she give this girl the name that she believed was hers? Or would that bring her memories back, ones that may cause distress and endanger the school? She didn’t know how this stranger would react, basic psychology dictated there is a reason for one forgetting their own experiences. _“This girl has no name, no personality as of yet… and if she is whom I believe her to be… she could be a valuable tool. It is indeed possible for a name to give the personality…”_ Maxime feels eyes on her. She had been in her thoughts for a tad too long. “Velore Whisperwind will be your name, henceforth.”

Name taking hold, an innocent, childlike smile bloomed on Velore’s face, as she fell asleep once more.

The next day was a bright one, as Velore enjoyed her new name and home. Her classes began, however did not last long, when she accidentally exploded the culinary class, purely by sneezing when she got flour up her nose. The problems only persisted, when in potions class an innocent potion turned into a deadly poison, and in music, when she sang, she hypnotised half the students. The girls and teachers were unaware of the occurrences, but to the headmistress who insisted to attend each of her classes, it was all too clear. Velore was too powerful, and Maxime now had confirmation on who she believed this stranger was, which cemented the idea to immediately separate her from the other girl’s classes and living quarters.

Although younger than all the girls, she had been instantly promoted to Prefect, making her an enemy and target of many of the seniors. The others of Beauxbaton’s just refused to talk to her, choosing to whisper and gossip behind her back, words consisting of how weird she is, how she may be cursed, how she is a muggle, and how she was the headmistresses pet. Although worried that Velore may regain her memories at any time, or at the very least, unleash the power that she unknowingly had, she did not. She continued to smile and wave at the girls as they walked by, attempting to make friends, and ignoring all the bullying. As the weeks grew closer to the day of the cup, Maxime noticed a change in Velore. Her attitude became less innocent and naïve, and more dubious and calculating. She would disappear for hours at a time, and her favourite pastime, when they found her, was just to sit and silently observe her surroundings.

She had taken a liking to a simple black, hooded cloak, wearing it rather than the school uniform. When asked about her chosen attire, she replied with a simple sentence and a nonchalant shrug, “it gives me freedom of movement.” Without wanting to provoke, Maxime allowed this dark and drab garment in her bright and elegant school, with the condition that Velore acquired one that is tailor-made. She readily agreed, and was now a proud owner of a cloak that she deemed perfect.

Unbeknownst to all, Velore had discovered, begun to research, and practice her unique magic, which no one else seemed to possess. She mastered each ‘spell’ within a day, and, trusting the person who had named her, clothed her, and housed her, she shared her usefulness with the Headmistress.

This was exactly what Maxime wanted. She was glad that she had decided not to restrict Velore, however she was worried of the implication that Velore may uncover – or already know – the many secrets that hid within their school.

The days rolled by slowly for Velore. She grew bored of her daily doings. So far she had been more or less Madame Olympe Maxime’s pet, in more ways than one, and only allowing it barely - as she loved being a shadow dancer. Maxime used her for what Velore liked to call ‘stealth missions’, gathering information on the students as the cloak she donned made it fairly simple to hide in the dark nooks and crannies virtually undetected. The more dishonest students had begun calling her The Shadow Broker in secret, passing a rumour amongst themselves that if they could catch her, she would divulge test answers or any other information you may want – for a price. No one ever managed to apprehend her, so no one knew if it were true. They didn’t want to risk asking Velore directly, in case it wasn’t actually her and she reports them. She was still a Prefect after all, albeit a very odd one, not knowing where her true loyalties lie.

Velore somewhat lived up to the name ‘Shadow Broker’. She had uncovered lovely pieces of information whilst researching and spying, which someone had obviously tried very hard to hide. She flicked through the dossier. Backstabbing and politics, expected of a school of this calibre. Her hand stopped on the next page. A first year had committed suicide because of bullying, and the staff had covered it up.

“Hm.”

Useful information. That’s all it was, information. She was slightly startled and a little confused by the lack of empathy she felt. Surely _normal people_ felt _something_ with news like that. When did she start feeling… nothing? Is it permanent? Is something wrong with her?

“…”

She scratched her head and continued to rifle through the file, ignoring her thoughts and mixed emotions, looking for anything else that she may use as a weapon, if the need arises. Her hand stopped once more.

“Well now, this is something.” Her eyes skimmed the page. “Hu-uh. Who’d have thought that the Headmistress of a magic academy, and a giantess, would be a Muggle.”

The folder she held contained all information on students and faculty, which she had acquired by underhanded means. It was her proudest work, piecing together secrets from rumours, research, and reconnaissance. Velore knew all the secrets this school had to offer, and even considered keeping it to use as blackmail. However, something inside her knew she didn’t need proof or evidence to get what she wanted. Her body moved on its own, as the folder in her hand caught flame and dissolved into soot. At one point, she may have cared. She sighed as she looked out a nearby window to the dark clouded, night sky above.

*

She remembered that night and how she wished to end the monotony. Perhaps this may be a way to escape the confines of this school?

With a confirming nod from Velore, Madame Maxime straightened her back and clapped her hands once, signalling the Pegasus’ to begin their departure. Climbing into the carriage after the girls, and just before shutting the door, Maxime bellows “Sorry dear, no room. However, I’m sure you know the way…”

Velore was confused, but not surprised. She had felt the subtle hostility toward her from her mentor the day she became her information agent. Of course, how could you trust someone who lies and does research on another, even at your order?  

_“Is she testing me?”_

Staring each other down, Maxime’s eyes glinted, which made Velore’s eyebrow twitch. She was just a tool, not a daughter-like figure she once believed she was. The door slammed shut, the look of smugness from the other girl’s faces was the last thing she saw from inside the cabin. Her eyes narrow in disgust.

“So that’s how she wants to play it. Very well.” Her lips have a calm and serene smile, as anger fuels the power that began to bubble up inside, from some place hidden.

*

 

The ladies in blue satin enter the school with a grand fanfare, dancing and prancing, letting loose blue butterflies made entirely of light. The boys of Hogwarts sigh dreamily, as the girls roll their eyes.

_“I had the same reaction, although mine involved more of a gag reflex.”_ She chuckles to herself as she sits upon her perch, watching the girls in black Hogwarts robes somewhat crammed at the extremely lengthy tables.

Headmistress Maxime is following close behind her girls, standing prim and tall, with the new addition of a sleek raven on one of her shoulders. She smiles proudly as she stands at the front of the room, to the right of the old wizard at the podium whom is known to be Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts.

“I see you made it on time. Très bon.” Maxime mutters from the left side of her mouth as if to herself.

As the girls stand off to one side and watch the Bulgarians enter with staves and martial arts, a few notice the lack of the mysterious favourite girl and unleash a barrage of snickering, scoffing, snide comments.

“Did little miss prefect get lost?”

“One can only hope.”

“How can she be the champion if she cannot even get to a well-known location?”

Having heard more than enough, and being in no mood, the ravens piercing eyes turn to the girls. They begin to wheeze, unable to breathe, clawing at their throats. Hearing the gasping, Maxime is filled with dread as she prods the familiar alight her shoulder with her gauche red manicured index finger. She was fairly certain that that was not a mere accident, and begins to question whether she did the right thing in bringing her pet. The black bird huffs and ruffles its feathers, releasing the girls from its hold before continuing to observe the room. The girls cough and inhale deeply behind it, being able to breathe again.

_“You wanted to play, Maxime. Expect a game.”_


	2. Let the Games Begin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The initial attraction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter.

Assorted students from all three academies crowd the cup to witness seniors enter themselves in the tournament, hoping to be picked for a chance to be champion.

It had been decided with a unanimous vote of the faculty that only those whom are seventeen years of age may enter, as it had been extremely dangerous for the younger and often resulted in missing students or fatalities. As an added security measure, Dumbledore erected a powerful barrier to surround the cup, aware that many of his younger students may try to enter regardless of warnings. Correct in his assumptions, two red-haired twins attempted to fool the spell with a simple potion, failing spectacularly with hilarious results.

As the troublesome twins pull at their long grey hair and beards in a panic, the blonde boy in the corner smirks a little at their misfortune, yet is not entertained. He looks on with boredom, wishing he was old enough to enter his own name, for just a chance to prove that he was better than his self-proclaimed nemesis. Elbow on table and chin on hand, he proceeds to sit with his cronies and watch as a blonde girl from Beauxbatons drops in her folded paper. The other girls cheer.

Velore observes her fellow Beauxbaton girls nearby. Why did they cheer after putting the small strips of parchment into the metallic object? She had no idea. She couldn’t comprehend why it was such a big deal. Her thoughts once again surprised her, however briefly. Even if she began to dislike her school, shouldn’t she be happy that they may have a champion?

The blonde boy hears a snort of contempt from somewhere across the room. Eyes scanning, he squints toward where the wall joins and where the light does not reach. Although fairly far away, his eyes adjust to the dim corner where a figure seems to be watching the show. She has one leg up, bent at the knee, foot flat on the stone wall which she is leaning. Her arms are crossed yet slack, obviously fairly relaxed in her shadowed alcove. He remembered seeing her around various parts of the school, dressed in black leather. She was always on her own, never interested in the people around her. He had never seen her at Hogwarts previously, so she must be a Beauxbaton girl, he concluded. The mysterious figure rolls her eyes and scowls at the blonde girl once more, before shifting her eyes on him. Jumping slightly in his seat, he quickly turns his head in a fluster, yet glancing back a second later. From the corner of his eye, he sees her grin mischievously at him and his heart speeds up.

“Why is your face red? Are you sick?” the boy next to him asks, catching him off guard.

“It’s not! I’m not! Shut up!”

He hears a small chuckle as he stands and storms out, the two large-ish boys sitting either side of him following close behind. She intrigued him. He always thought she was yet another nice girl from the academy, regardless of her appearance, but perhaps she is not as nice as she lets others believe.


	3. The Chosen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chosen champions and the problems that come with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, quite a few chapters are short. Blah.

The first day of the cup had come, the choosing of champions. All from the three schools are present for this momentous and important event, even those that wish not to be. One by one, names fly out of the blue flames, whizzing around the room and finally settling in Dumbledore’s wrinkly hands. Slowly, as if to build anticipation, he reads the names out in a booming voice.

“Viktor Krum! Cedric Diggory!” These names were greeted by ferocious applause and cheers, yet the hall fell silent as the next name was called. “Harry Potter!”

The pin drop silence ensued, then broke out into muttering, loudly growing into complaints. A sharp, crackling sound echoes as the blue flames of the brazier turn bright green, alternating royal purple with every flicker. The attention is immediately refocused, as one more slightly charred piece of paper flies out. The flames extinguish just as quickly, like the candles of a child’s birthday cake when blown. Slowly unfolding the parchment, Dumbledore reads what is written.

“Fleur Dela-” He pauses, staring in disbelief. If he didn’t see magic every day, he would have believed his old eyes were playing tricks on him. “Velore Whisperwind!”

There is a weary sigh from the shadows. _Of course_ Maxime entered her.

The blonde girl from Beauxbatons that had placed her name in the cup, interjected rather loudly.

“This must be a joke!”

Many of the girls tried to console and calm her, before another voice broke through the clamour.

“Why? Because you didn’t get picked?”

Velore raises her eyebrow. Interesting. Was the young blonde boy from Hogwarts trying to defend her, or did the popular girl finally have enemies of her own?

“Why you…”

“Velore Whisperwind?” Dumbledore once more bellowed, his voice cutting off the small fight that may break out. People began to look around the room, curious as to who this person was, and why they had not yet shown themselves.

“Velore!” Maxime was the next to yell impatiently, tired of waiting for her now slightly rebellious agent.

There is movement from the cornered alcove, as a young woman steps out into the light. Once more the room falls silent, yet for a different reason this time, as the black clad stranger made their way slowly and gracefully toward the other champions. Although not dressed in the uniform like the other Beauxbaton ladies, she most definitely moved like one. All in the room quickly sensed the air of mystery about her, and smelled her perfume as she drifted past. Vanilla blueberry with a hint of coconut.

The blonde boy’s eyes followed her as she passed by him, briefly catching her amethyst ringed emerald ones. Her angry eyes narrowed in newfound amusement, the slight teasing grin playing on her lips causing his face to heat up once more. _What is this feeling?_ He mused as he felt his features somewhat soften. Noticing his henchmen silent beside him, he turned his attention to them, only to see matching dreamy smiles as they watched her go by. The boy immediately smacked them both over the back of the head simultaneously.

Approaching the three Principals of each corresponding school, Velore crosses her arms indignantly and tilts her hips to one side. “I can assure you, I did not enter this obnoxious competition.” Velore states in a hushed tone as she glares at her Headmistress. Maxime stares at her calmly, a stoic neutral expression on her face.

She is greeted by doubtful silence, until Dumbledore opens his mouth. “I believe you.” The Headmaster of Hogwarts agrees, “However, you were chosen.”

Unable to hear the black clad figure, all those in the room lean forward and strain their ears.

“Why don’t you believe me?!” Harry yells, only hearing Dumbledore and frustrated at the odd turn of events.

“…Your name did not change halfway through reading it.”

Harry opens and closes his mouth, unable to argue with the decisive tone and factual statement.


	4. Dragons Are Just Misunderstood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first test.  
> Velore gains approval, blonde boy discovers jealousy (over someone other than his self-proclaimed enemy)

The day of the first test of the Triwizard Tournament quickly approaches, and those that are not of Hogwarts are unaware what is awaiting them.

In the starting tent, they are each given a dragon. The aim is simple, steal the golden egg. It had been decided that Viktor would be the first, Cedric the second, Velore the third, and Harry the last. As each student donned their ‘battle gear’, Velore donned her much loved cloak. They each took their turns, until it was hers.

The sun shone brightly through the darkened clouds, streaking the sky in fantastical beams. Taking her first step out of the tent, the crowd grew silent. The students sat high in the wooden stands, which reminded Velore of opera boxes on stilts. She studied her scenery as she placed her bare feet on the hard rock of the ground with precise and deliberate steps. How did they place a chasm on school grounds? Is it just an illusion, or was there one here previously? Velore tilts her head as she slowly approaches the abyss, completely ignoring the glistening gold egg on the other side. Leaning over the edge of the cliff face, she stares into the darkness of the cave below. It begins to light, a fireball fast approaching. She casually leans back as it narrowly misses her face. As if knowing what will come next, she takes a few steps backward, leaving a considerable gap between herself and the maw in the ground.

The stands grow with excitement as they watch the strange girl with wonder and awe. There may be excitement, but there is no cheering. The majority of the Beauxbatons had always disliked Velore, and the young men from Durmstrang Institute, although finding her attractive, believed that someone seemingly so young – let alone a girl – should not be undertaking such dangerous tasks. The students from Hogwarts just watch the show for entertainment value, her only supporter quietly and intently studying her every move.

The dragon emerges almost immediately after the fireball, landing on the cliff face directly in front of Velore.

 _“Was the gap she created, intended?”_ The blonde boy thinks, narrowing his eyes in thought.

The scaled beast and the Beauxbaton pet are now face to face. Its jaws open wide as it roars a warning, her raven black hair whipping around, catching the sunlight and showing the hidden undertones of purple. She stands unflinching as she raises her hand toward the beast’s snout without hesitation.

“ _Did her eyes just change colour?”_ The blonde boy does a double take. _“Probably just a trick of the light.”_

Gasps are heard from the students of Hogwarts and Beauxbatons, however the boys from Durmstrang quickly change their opinion, thinking she is fearless with a fighters spirit, and nod in approval. Velore’s supporters had now doubled tenfold.

Seeing this, the Hogwarts boy is filled with familiar emotions of jealousy and insecurity, experiencing them on a rather regular basis, but never over a girl.

All are still in the stands, as they lean forward in their seats. What will happen now? Will she be food for the dragon?

Velore runs her hand over the cool, smooth scales of the dragons nostrils. The dragon lets out a small nicker as it begins to nuzzle Velore’s palm. Releasing a sound which may be considered a high pitched yap, the overgrown lizard proceeds to jump around like a giant puppy, wagging its tail. She pets it again, before pointing a black leather gloved finger toward the golden egg. Bounding around her once more, it takes to flight, returning shortly later, dropping the item at her feet.


	5. May I Have This Dance?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The golden egg is used as a deterrent.

Night falls and the next day’s dawn illuminates the newly fallen snow, making it glisten beautifully, as if welcoming the blossoming of new romances. The Yuletide ball was fast approaching and the school was bustling with activity of those who had no date as of yet. Velore watches curiously, as she sits on the cold ground under a tree in the courtyard. She had heard some girls chat about it excitedly as they passed her, rugged up in their winter wear.

_“A dance, huh?”_

She tilts her head. Does she even know how to dance? A vague and foggy memory flickers to life in her head. She sees herself twirling and dancing whilst people clap along. There is a splitting pain in her frontal lobe, as if someone was sawing through her skull with a bone saw. Her hands that were sitting on her lap now grip her knees, knuckles turning a paler white than they already are. The pain and memory leave her, just as quickly as they came. Slightly confused as to what she was doing previously, she lightly shook her head, rolled her shoulders, repositioned herself, and picked up the golden egg which was resting on the ground in front of her. Velore begins to tune out all around her, before sensing many eyes on her. Glancing toward the position, she sees a group of Durmstrang boys across the courtyard, pretending not to look at her. However, she knows that when she looks away, they turn their attention back on her. She snorts in amusement.

_“And they call themselves strong, yet they cannot approach one lone female? Am I really that intimidating?”_

There is a prickling sensation in her chest, as the familiar feeling of loneliness, fear, and anger seeps into her every being. The loneliness she understood, but anger, and fear? What was that about? She is lost in her thoughts as she turns the oddly familiar egg in her hand.

 _“I guess I can give them a reason not to approach me.”_ She thinks with a self-deprecating smile. Full of scornful and bitter thoughts, she opens the egg wide.

Much to her assumption, the students around her scream and cover their ears, darting away from the screeching banshee-like wail being emitted from the beautiful crafted golden object. Velore ignores the distress she had caused as she closes her eyes and listens to the soothing singing of the siren song that is flowing forth. The message ends abruptly, someone had the nerve of closing the egg. Was it one of the headmasters? A teacher? Whomever it was, she is _not_ impressed.

Her eyes snap open with a piercing glare, ready to attack, if need be, anyone who would dare to interrupt her meditations.

The blonde boy falters, a cold sweat drips down his back.

Velore’s narrowed eyes visibly widen in surprise as she sees the blue ones looking down at her, waver slightly. It was a student. A _male_ student. She gets a pulse of excitement. Did someone finally approach her? And in such a brave way! Her heart flips a little, and she feels a slight tug at the corner of her lips. Catching herself, she quickly returns to a neutral expression, unblinking, looking up at him.

_“Wait, it’s that boy from the mess hall…”_

Her unsettling stare causes the hair on his neck to prickle. _“I can’t believe I just did that…”_ he thinks, shuffling.

The two round boys accompanying him, whisper to him from behind.

“Hey Draco, I thought you were going to ask her-”

Although feeling a somewhat gravitational pull and attraction toward this young woman in front of him, he swallows and spins on his heel, managing to muster a small glare of his own and a growl.

“Crabbe, Goyle.”

Walking off, he formulates a new plan. His arrogance and bold move seemed to fail, time for a new tactic. He will not give up so easily and allow someone else to take her to the dance.

Velore sighs silently and slightly droops her shoulders as she watches him leave. Evil thoughts invade once more, whispering and tempting her to play.


	6. It's All Fun and Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Velore wants to play!

A scream fills the courtyard, wrenching Draco from his slumber. His heartbeat is rapid and he is perspiring slightly as he strains his ears for any other noise. Looking around his room, he sees his dorm-mates are still fast asleep. Did he just dream that horrible blood curdling shriek? Settling back into bed, he pulls his covers up to his chin and closes his eyes.

Tap, tap, tap.

His eyes shoot open once more and his breathing becomes rapid. Did he just imagine that too?

Tap, tap, tap.

No. There was something tapping on the window.

Tap, ta-

The tapping immediately stops and only the even breaths of his fellow Slytherins could be heard in the deafening silence. Draco lets out the breath he unwittingly held, however his relief did not last long. He hears a crackle, the specific sound of a gramophone coming to life, just as the needle touches the record. This sound he knew, remembering the time his father had found an antique and supposedly haunted gramophone and brought it home, saying it was crucial to the dark lord’s plans. There is a brief pause before a bewitching and haunting melody began to echo throughout the empty halls. It is way past curfew as he slips out of bed and pads toward his black coat and pants. Throwing on his casual - yet overly expensive – clothes, he leaves the Slytherin dorm and slinks toward the door, his curiousity getting the better of him.

Opening it to what he assumes is the staircase, he is greeted by a soft breeze and the smell of freshly cut grass. Somehow he was outside, still on Hogwarts grounds, but as it was dark, he was unsure of where. Taking his wand out of his inner jacket pocket, he is keen to illuminate his surroundings.

“Lumos!” He whispers, not wanting to be caught by the moody professor Severus Snape, who patrols on a regular basis. Although he knew that Snape would just look the other way, he would want an explanation, and Draco was unsure of whether he could believe himself that he had somehow teleported outside.

With the end of his wand lit up, he slowly waved it about, scanning whatever may be in view. The large brick tower behind him suggested he was just outside the Owlry, and only a short distance away, the mighty silhouette of the whomping willow towered threateningly. But… wait… there was something else. The same tree that never allows birds to nest in it, or anything to get close. How is it possible that something is amongst its branches? Squinting, he tries to get a better look at the anomaly, but the light from his wand hinders the ability for his eyes to adjust.

*SCREECH*

Hearing the sudden noise behind him, he spins around and points his glowing wand at… an owl. It glares at him as it flies past. He chuckles as he berates himself internally, thanking whomever that no one was around to see that cowardly act.

“Stupid bird.” He mumbles as he turns back to face the tree.

However, instead of the tree, his lit wand illuminates the flawless, pale alabaster face that seemingly appeared out of nowhere, only centimetres away from his own. It grins before speaking, the light catching the teeth and looking like gleaming fangs.

“Nox”

*

All is dark and silent once more, but Draco could feel the presence of this stranger hovering near.

“Who are you?!”

Slightly seductive, mocking laughter answered his question and he felt the presence shift. It’s circling him, he realised. He felt a teasing hand glide across his back, the cold touch seeping through his warm jacket. Shaking slightly, he swallowed in fear.

“Wha-what do you want?” He yells, his voice cracking a little.

 

She felt herself come back to her senses. What is this feeling? Guilt? How could she scare this boy? The others she had no problem with, but this… Why is he so different?

 

Hearing a snap and feeling warm liquid trickling down his wrist, Draco realised he had been gripping his wand a little too hard, breaking it and causing him harm. Throwing it to the floor, he holds up his fists bravely, only to be distracted by the steadily growing white light coming from his discarded twig. He shields his eyes as it grows blindingly bright, forgetting there was another with him.

~

Strutting the halls, he has one single purpose this morning. Asking her to the Yuletide Ball. With both his crony’s either side of him for backup, he makes his way toward the courtyard. He can see her now, sitting cross legged on the cold stone, as pale as the snowflakes spotting her black hair and long eyelashes. He follows her gaze toward a group of Durmstrang boys, who pretend not to leer and look away. He clenches his fists slightly. Jealousy. He had gotten used to this feeling now. He wanted to approach her right then and there, declare that she was his… but of course this was not the case. Taking a deep breath to steel his resolve, he takes a step forward and is assaulted by shrill and ugly screams. He presses his hands to his ears as the others do, before they retreat at a quick pace. Where is this god awful noise coming from?! Looking around frantically and with anger, he spies Velore, still under the tree, with the same golden egg as earlier, yet open. Her expression was calm however, but there was sadness written on her face. One of his followers pulled at his sleeve. Draco shook him off. Clenching his teeth, he strides forward, making a beeline for the egg.

 

He expected a complaint or a yelling of some kind, not the death glare directed at him from those cold, unblinking eyes. He swallows in fear as he feels a drop of cold sweat cascade down his spine. If there were such a look that could literally kill a man, this would be it. Feeling his macho attempt did not work, he cowardly spins in shame, turning to his henchmen behind him.

However instead of seeing his followers, he is once again on the outskirts of the courtyard, watching Velore cross legged under the snow laden, sagging tree.

“What’s happening?” He wonders aloud.

“What’s wrong?” One of the boys by his side asks him.

“Crabbe, Goyle… why are we here today?”

They share a look with each other before they answer uncertainly. “You wanted to ask the pretty Beauxbaton girl to the dance.”

Draco furrows his brow. He was sure he had done all this already. His eyes wander back over to the black haired beauty, contrasting the snow. Her gaze was held elsewhere, on the Durmstrang boys. Hold on. He didn’t notice _that_ before. As he re-watched the scene, he saw the change in her expression. He thought initially she was smiling at them, but in fact the smile wasn’t friendly nor happy. It was lonely and disparaging, but most importantly, it was directed at _herself_.

Curious but in a hurry, he shook his head lightly before taking a step into the courtyard and beginning to replay the events that seemed to transcribe only moments ago. Turning in shame once more, he is now face to face with a pillar and without his plebs. Confused and slightly disoriented, he cautiously peers around the large slab. Draco’s breath catches in his throat as he sees himself standing in front of the lady of the hour, swallowing nervously at the uncomfortable situation. What kind of magic is this? Illusion magic? Something darker? More importantly, why this scene? What is he missing? Draco sighs. He may not know how to get out of this seemingly Groundhog Day situation, but at least it wasn’t a bad moment. Smiling a little, he gently gazes at Velore, watching the snowflakes melt as they touch her cheeks.

“?”

Velore’s mouth twitches as she stares up at the copy of him from earlier that day.

“Was that… Did she… Was she happy I approached her…?”

He was now more keen than ever to observe her and the conversation they had had. The conversation was the same as he had seen through his eyes when he was the one in front of her. However he didn’t get the opportunity to see what happened after – until now.

The look of defeat and loneliness on her pure face sent a pang through his heart, but her sudden switch to an evil grin and glinting ominous eyes made it skip. Is it possible that she is as tortured as he is? Are they actually quite a bit alike?

With her grin and these thoughts swirling in his head, he jolts upright in a start, brow slightly dotted with perspiration. Where was he now? Looking around the room, he realises he was in his bed, back in the Slytherin dorm and in his pyjamas. Was that all just a dream? But is what he saw true? Lost in his thoughts he didn’t hear the caw or see the raven that released it, flying away from his dorm room window.


	7. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What will she take away from her experience? Humans/giantesses suck.

The hall was brightly lit as music poured throughout Hogwarts. The Yuletide Ball was now upon them, and Draco was still without his date. After the dream he had that one night, he had been scheming a plan to snatch up Velore and lead her in the first dance, however she never showed. He leaned on the marble wall grumpily, no one paying attention to him, which for once he was grateful for, but he was not grateful for the whispers circling around him. Draco scowled, his mood darkening. Of course everything turns to Potter. He’s the golden child. Perfect Potter. Perfect Fucking Potter. As his cusses get more colourful, he decided to slip out of the dance hall and, completely by coincidence, happened to catch a glimpse of a black clad figure retreating toward the staircase.

 

Velore picked up the pace as her black high heels click clacked on the stone floor. She knew the memories she had lost before appearing at Beauxbatons were probably important, but she never really cared much for them. Setting foot on Hogwarts’ grounds had caused a strong, tingling feeling to grow steadily in her chest. What was it? She didn’t know. She ignored it like her memories, but she now felt the pulling in her very being, as if something were calling to her. Turning the corner, she passed a large oak door with a brass doorknob.

_“This wasn’t here before…”_

Velore approaches the heavy wood and places her palm upon it. It was surprisingly smooth and warm to the touch. Reaching for the knob and thoughts elsewhere, she was unaware of her follower.

 

Draco followed close behind the shadow he had seen, keeping his footsteps as quiet as possible. He knew exactly who it was, but why didn’t she go to the ball? Is it because he didn’t ask her? Sticking close to the wall, he peeks around the corner. His eyes widen and his heart begins to hammer wildly in his chest as he sees the outfit that Velore has donned.

The black satin of her dress glittered as ominously as her eyes in the flicking torch light. It was high collared and layered, feathers seemingly sprouting from the shoulders, much like the cloak she wore as a battle suit. The collar was held around her neck by two silver moons and a glinting silver chain, matching the one which wrapped and dangled loosely around her hips, held in place by the ornate metallic spider cincher, which hugged her body tight. The dress itself was fairly low cut, left sleeve was but a plaited band, showing the silver bangle on her upper arm, whereas the right was long and see through, black cobwebbed patterned lace draping down to cover her wrist. This same black cobwebbed lace flared beautifully from the bottom of her seemingly short dress, giving it a longer feel – as if melding with the satin itself. Her face was as beautiful as ever, blood red lipstick painted her normally flesh toned lips, and her eyes powdered in a smoky fashion. Her hair was arranged in a fairly elaborate way, up in a French twist, curled to perfection, small ringlets bursting forth as if it could hold them no longer. Her fringe was swept back and poofed up, allowing the delicate crown-like braid to rest upon her forehead gracefully.

Draco moistened his lips as he swallowed. He was unaware that he was leering, but it was clear to him that she was intending to go to the dance. What had changed?

 

Turning the brass knob, the door swung open easily. Yes, whatever she sensed was definitely in this room. But what _is_ this room?

As if hearing her thoughts, a voice echoes from behind her.

“This is the room of requirement.”

Velore’s shoulders twitch in surprise before spinning around, hair and dress flaring out with her twirl. Her eyes widen slightly, seeing and hearing the well-dressed blonde haired boy now standing in front of her. How did she not hear or sense him? She quietly berates herself as she tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

“…” Velore eyed Draco dubiously, crossed arms with eyebrow raised as if asking a question.

Draco didn’t flinch, instead taking a cue from her, he stood quiet, staring her down.

 _“Why is he staring at me like that?”_ Never being on the receiving end of such an intense stare, caused her to falter. Lowering her guard and her gaze, she spies a small battered and stained book on the floor. She tilts her head, is this what had been calling to her?

Draco smirked to himself as he saw Velore fidget.

 _“What is she thinking about?”_ he wonders, noticing her gaze shift toward his feet. “?” Reaching down, he picks up the old worn book and begins flicking through the pages. In a blink of an eye, Velore is next to him, peering at the writing of the crinkled paper. Draco can feel his face grow hotter as he notices the warmth of her body pressing against his. His voice slightly cracks as he tries to ignore it, reading from what he had picked up.

“January 10th 1660…

There are weird noises coming from the forest. When I was a wee lad, my mother and father used to tell me stories of frightening things in that wood. We always believed they were just to scare the children… Is this a diary?”

Velore grasps Draco’s arm, as if begging him to continue. Draco glances to his side, only to see Velore’s face incredibly close. Flustered, he begins reading again.

“April 3rd 1660

… I don’t believe it! Dieties, myths, legends, all in our little town! And a family, no less! We have been blessed!

They have chosen my little farm to live! I swear my life to them. I am their guardian, as they are mine.

 

May 5th 1660

…They seem to be a combination of ground and air. Notes as follows:

The father is rather a rough chap, but with a kind heart. Always wears a bearskin and feathers. Very well built, muscular and has many scars. Knowing amber eyes. Bear/Owl. Military?

The mother is very kind and gentle in appearance. Deer antlers, flowers, leaves, and feathers adorn her hair. Deer/Hawk. Huntress.

The daughter has childlike innocence. Mischievous and playful as an imp. Loves singing and dancing and playing with the other children in town. Very curious about everything. Follows me around when parents are elsewhere. I get the distinct impression that she is older than her physical appearance. Well-dressed other than her grubby bare feet. Black hair always shiny and groomed. Fur around waist, feathers on shoulders, and a skull mask. Raven/Fox. _Eyes_. Adopted??

… ‘eyes’? It’s underlined… I wonder why…” Draco is so engrossed in his reading, he doesn’t notice the piece of paper that fell from the book as he turned the page.

Bending to pick it up, Velore collapses, pain coursing through her body. She is now on all fours, her neck slack, eyes dull and blank staring at the picture on the ground in front of her. Tears stream uncontrollably from her eyes, smudging her makeup.

“August 18th 1660

Why?! Why must this happen?! They took her! They took her away! Her parents trusted me, I was chosen! I must protect her!

September 3rd 1660

… This may very well be my last entry. If someone finds this… I need to tell you the events so they can be avoided in the future. If you find her, and if you find this… please, don’t be afraid. It was self-defence. She was scared.

Her parents had left called away on duty, leaving their daughter to care and protect the village. I was to look out for her, although she was in no means helpless.

I’m just a simple farmer, laying offerings for her every day for her to bless my crops. She did, happily, and sang and danced in the town square with the rest of the children. They had even given her a nickname, ‘Magic Lady’, and made daisy chains to place upon her head. However, that all changed when children began to go missing and babies were stolen from their cribs. They blamed her, forgetting everything she had done for them and they began to fear her healing light. The colour of her eyes scared them. They called her the devil child, not knowing what she really was.

… The priests and pious decided to visit our small village, getting wind that there was something unholy amongst us. Oh god, it was horrible. The town turned on her as they threw her at the mercy of the holy. They… they burnt her at the stake for being a witch... at least… that was their intention. She was crying and pleading as the flames rose high in the sky and engulfed the lower half of her body.

As if a switch was flicked, she became eerily calm as storm clouds gathered over head. Through the flickering flames and billowing smoke, I saw a flash of gold, then the fire went out. She wasn’t tied to the stake anymore. I cannot write what I witnessed… there were screams, raven feathers, and blood. So much blood. The air was thick and heavy will the metallic smell of slain enemies. That’s how she saw them. They were her enemies, those who betrayed her. She killed them all. Women, children… No one was left, but me. Standing amongst the corpses of my neighbours.

…I cared for her deeply, I was her guardian… no, it was more than that. I loved her. So I helped her, I helped her escape. I provided her with the reagents she required to send her far away. I saw her use her last amount of power, before collapsing. She disappeared before my eyes in a blinding flash of light.

The soldiers are coming for me now, but I don’t regret a thing. I will defend her till my last breath, and when I die, I know that she will be the one to take me into the light...

That’s where it ends, pages stained brown with blood. Presumably his own-”

Finally realising that Velore was not near him, he gasps as he sees her unconscious on the floor, face down. Kneeling beside her, he turns her onto her side and finds the fallen picture under her head. It’s a picture of the family. Inspecting it closer, Draco’s eyes widen in disbelief.

“The girl… It’s Velore.”


	8. From The Ash...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...riseth a phoenix.   
>  Or, well, something else.

Manic, chilling laughter echoes throughout the sickbay as Velore awakens to the full moon. The dance had long been over, and the students were all in bed. All except one. Disoriented and full to the brim with horrific memories of that time and others passed, the one known as Velore glanced feverishly around the room, her very vibrant swirling golden eyes resting on the blonde boy asleep on the chair beside her.

She never noticed it before, but he reminded her of the farmer… and not just the farmer. The soldier, the king, the medic, the alchemist, the bandit, the grave robber, and all the other men by her side per era, in between. Is it possible that they had all been descendants? That _he_ is actually a descendant? When she first met this boy, she felt comfortable, protected… safe. But there was something else. Confused and curious as to what it was, ‘Velore’s’ eyes shimmered uncertainly as they shifted back to their amethyst ringed emerald. Gently, she brushed his almost white hair away from his forehead.

“Maybe all in this world isn’t bad?” Remembering her experiences since at Beauxbatons, she rethinks that statement. “Olympe Maxime…” She growls with gritted teeth, eyes changing back to gold. It’s as if two sides of her personality are fighting each other.  

“Mmm…”

There is movement from beside her, drawing her attention.

“There is no time for this tot. I will continue with this charade of ‘Velore The Champion’ for the time being.” She lets out a sly grin. “For I am also The Shadow Broker and oh so much more.”


	9. The Show Must Go On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What would you do to protect those important to you?

Draco had woken up that night to an empty sickbay bed. Unaware of where she went, or what had happened. He didn’t tell anyone about what he found out that evening, or the overwhelming feeling of needing to be by her side. He returns to the Slytherin dorm, tired and bleary eyed, not noticing anything out of the ordinary.

 

The next day is bright and early as the students from all schools get ushered onto the small boats awaiting them. It is one of the Champions tests that they have all come to watch and cheer for. Unknown to all what had happened that previous night, ‘Velore’ makes an appearance with an uninterested yawn.

Maxime claps her large bony hands. “Velore, you aren’t late!”

Some of the girls giggle.

 _“Calm yourself. All in due time.”_ A voice whispers in ‘Velore’s’ mind.

Sensing something off about her pupil, Maxime leans her face close, studying ‘Velore’s’ eyes.

“You’re brave to get so close to someone who may bite.”

Maxime is startled, hearing her pet growl in that tone of voice. ‘Velore’ looks up at her like a defiant child, a sinister aura emanating from her relaxed posture.

“By the way, I forfeit.”

The Headmistress raises an eyebrow. Has her little shadow dancer become aware of her past? Or is she still just acting like a rebellious teen? She had always been difficult. Maybe she doesn’t know. Or maybe she just doesn’t know _everything._

“A charred girl, barely recognisable as human, unconscious and covered in blood that was a mix of your own and others. I clothed you, fed you, and gave you a home. Velore, do not forget… I own you.”

Finding it amusing, ‘Velore’ releases another one of her chilling laughs. Empty, devoid of all emotion, only entering the ears of the giantess. Her grin directed at her previous mistress can only be described as evil.  

“Do you really think… you are in the position to threaten me?” She snarls through gritted teeth in quiet anger, eyes swirling a shimmering gold.

Maxime takes a retreating step but does not yield.

The girls snigger “scared of a little water?” they mock in unison, misunderstanding the body language.

As if in answer, there is a sudden gust of gale force wind knocking them into the lake, as the merpeople scramble to take them prisoner. They are rescued just in time by faculty and students. ‘Velore’ clicks her tongue in annoyance and turns her eyes back on Maxime. From another floating platform, she hears people muttering. Her ears perk when she hears a particular name.

“Have you seen Draco?”

_Draco… They’ve taken him? Why him? They can’t know about… anyway… why would they drag him into this?_

“Very well.” She sighs in defeat.

Maxime grins with glee, knowing full well that her champion will win, and taking this as her pet yielding to her once more.

‘Velore’ clears her throat and kneels on the platform. As the other champions take off swimming, it confuses those still in the stands. What is this strange girl doing? Readjusting the high ponytail that held up her hair, ‘Velore’ plunges her head into the water. Roughly ten or less second pass and she pulls her wet head back, moments later an unconscious blonde boy bobs to the surface and slowly floats toward her. Seemingly uninterested, she turns away as the teachers and students collect him.

From the corner of her eye, she sees him cough and splutter. His ancestor may have been her protector, but just like his predecessors, he is mortal. Albeit foggy, she recalls all the deaths of her partners, taken before their time, somehow always involving her. Maybe she was the one that was cursed, or is she just the embodiment of bad luck? She needs to protect _him_ , and if being close to him causes him to be in harms way, then… her chest constricts tightly as the voice completes her sentence. _“It would be best to distance yourself.”_

She clenches her fists with resolve, before treading water and retreating off the platform silently and subtly, no one any the wiser.


	10. For The Sake Of Others

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, Cedric and HP still get the cup.  
> Velore vanishes, without even a goodbye.

The days and nights pass without any appearance from ‘Velore’. The young man’s thoughts are consumed by her, barely paying attention to his classes. Tomorrow was the last day of the Triwizard Tournament. Surely she would show up for that, as she was the Beauxbatons champion. His small glimmer of hope sparkled brightly until night fell and dawn rose, giving way to the final day.

 

The schools gather as the final challenge awaits. It was a seemingly simple one – find the champion cup in the ever shifting maze.

Draco leans forward in the stands, eagerly peering toward the mazes entrance, just for the smallest glimpse of the woman on his mind.

‘Velore’ was the third of four to enter the convoluted maze. Almost immediately after the hedge closed behind her, it spawned tendrils, grasping at her ankles feverishly. Dodging them lazily, she leans forward and gently touches a leaf. It curls, responding to her touch. The tendrils stop as the hedge parts and reveals the Triwizard Cup. It glows a bright blue, as if waiting for her to claim it. Sensing her somewhat displeasure, they part once again, showing the stands of awaiting students and teachers. She blinks slowly. All she had to do was exit through that narrow gap, but maybe… maybe it would be better if they all think she got lost in the maze. Would they even believe that? She sighs. As if her turbulent mind had decided one course of action over another, atropis belladonna sprouted slowly in front of her, a curled tendril beckoning to her like a finger. She tilted her head as she examined it. She didn’t consciously create this… is it possible to cast subconsciously, or even unconsciously?

“ _Interesting… I’ll need to be careful of that in the future._ ”

After the tendril waved once more, it buried itself deep into the ground, causing a lush string of belladonna plants snaking quickly toward the exit created by the hedge, and outward. She sighed once more, muttering curses under her breath as she exits the maze in a casual stride, only five minutes in.

Dumbledore is among all surprised. Only few can exit the twisting maze by their own means. It’s not possible for anyone other than those that know the secrets, those being the teachers of Hogwarts.

‘Velore’s’ eyes immediately find Draco’s as if by instinct. She wants to smile her usual teasing grin, but she can’t. She sees a flicker of sadness cross his face as she turns her back on him.

 _“It’s for his own good.”_ The voice reminds her as she slowly closes her eyes.

 

 “Why did you not look for the cup? You could have won!”

The Headmistress’ voice rings out over the grounds, causing ‘Velore’s’ eyes to snap open, then narrow sharply.

“...I was never interested in the hunk of metal. You mortals are always so petty and materialistic.”

Seemingly a completely different person, Maxime now knew that her pet was no longer chained, and had to be taken care of.

“…You know you cannot beat me, Maxime. Oh yes, I know you and your secrets, and even what you plan to do to me. Perhaps you should have done more research before thinking of ways I could be disposed of.” ‘Velore’s’ playful tone turns to one of a menacing nature, keeping the chilling smile on her face as she stares up at the giantess, “Is that fear in your eyes, young one? A word of advice, from me to you, and I really do believe you should follow it. **_Back. Off._** ”

All are confused as the ground rumbles with a shuddering quake. Amongst the confusion, a cloaked figure retreats into the shadows as all attention is now focused on the bright orange flare that had lit up the night sky over the maze. Sensing an emptiness, Draco gathers his thoughts and glances around at all the faces panicking. She was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ends here. Next story in the series is a little more... adult? I guess? Especially toward the end. *coughs*  
> Also manic. *nods*

**Author's Note:**

> Those who know french - apologies if incorrect. I used google translate xD


End file.
